


50 Proof (High)

by at_least_this_planet_has_namjoon



Category: Day6 (Band), No Fandom
Genre: 50 proof, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Depression, Don't Judge Me, Eaj, F/M, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Songfic, i don't know how commas work, i low-key thought of jae while writing it tho, like he blames himself but he's wrong, only a little though, only mentioned briefly - Freeform, please read responsibly, probably because it‘s his song, self blame, this can be read as any male character, those are too many tags, who hurt him this is unacceptable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 07:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23847439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/at_least_this_planet_has_namjoon/pseuds/at_least_this_planet_has_namjoon
Summary: do you still wake to sunsetsand eat home alonewatching the moonriseasking on and onwhat's gone wronghow you been doingyou sleeping alrighti’m worried your tearsstill wake you up at nightand you know whybut you don't know whyat the same timewho holds you on your 50 proof highbeen worried all nightwondering all nightwho loves you nowwho wipes the problemslike leaves turned autumnwhen they won't stop fallingfrom your eyesand from your sighswho loves younow- 50 proof by eaJ
Kudos: 2





	50 Proof (High)

**Author's Note:**

> this can be read as any male character and any ship male or female  
> idk it's weird, this is pretty raw  
> \-----  
> please check the tags for any triggers! don't read if you feel like it might put you in a bad place

**_do you still wake to sunsets_ **

he remembers waking up to the last rays of sunshine falling through the window, creating shadows of long eyelashes on flushed cheeks.

but not like this.

not with the unbearably glaring light of the low sun burning his eyes and the heat making him feel uncomfortably hot under the covers. the soft material slightly sticking to the sweaty skin of his legs. he kicks the comforter off, almost scoffing at the paradox of the word. the stuffy blanket doesn’t give any comfort at all.

his white shirt is so soaked, he can make out the shape of his stomach underneath. he grips it loosely, pulling it away from his torso and fanning with it, the cool air soothing the skin on his damp chest. for a moment the boy wonders whether he had a nightmare again, or if it was merely the warmth of the sun which caused his sweating.

he sits up, throwing his legs on one side of the bed and pulling the shirt over his head a moment later, letting it fall on the floor. with a deep sigh, he burrows his face in his head, willing the heavy tears away which are trying to make their way up from his throat. he should pull himself together; he has cried enough.

but the memory of a different time is fresh in his mind. waking up to feather-light kisses all over his face. a blinding smile, brighter than the sun, but welcomed, so different than the beams overwhelming his eyes. soft kisses and even softer hands caressing his cheeks and hair, slowly pulling him from sleep and into a reality he liked waking up to.

tiny pecks turning into lingering kisses. ignoring the sour taste sleep had left in their mouths. basking in each others warmth and familiarity. wandering hands leaving skin flushed and sometimes loud giggles over ticklish places.

gentle eyes on his. sometimes with a burning desire, and sometimes with a scolding look. heavenly noises, or complaints about the numerous tasks still left of the day nearly gone by.

**_and eat home alone_ **

he finds a pack of ramen in the kitchen, doesn’t bother to check the expiration date. ramen can’t go bad, can they?

as water is heating up in the pot, he checks the cabinets for a clean bowl. a huge stack of unwashed dishes piling in the sink like they are trying to mock him for having lost his will. the will to keep functioning, the will to have his life in order. how can anything be in order without…

the sound of the water bubbling impatiently, disrupts his loud mind. he’s glad about that; he can’t let himself drown in these thoughts.

the powder swirls in the liquid before quickly dissolving, turning it red. he watched it for a while before adding the noodles. they stay in their shape before he grabs a fork to separate them - all his chopsticks are dirty - then they become gooey, quickly soaking in the water.

his search for any clean bowl turns out futile, so he decides to eat from the pot. holds any two chopsticks from the pile under running water for a few seconds and dries them on the sweater he had picked up from his bedroom floor earlier.

he carries everything to the living room, has half a mind to put on a random show on netflix and eat watching it, before his gaze falls onto the balcony door. he drags himself over and slides it open with his elbow, scorching his wrist in the process, ignoring the sting which doesn’t hurt per se, and he almost welcomes in a grotesque way. it’s like a tiny reality check, reminding him that he is still a person who is able of feeling things.

the air that greets him is cool, void of any trace of the bygone spring day. He is glad he put on that hoodie but regrets staying in nothing but his boxers. the sun is nearly gone, the last rays glimmering orange, making the few trees look like they are on fire.

he sets down the pot on the concrete floor which still holds some warmth before going back inside and grabbing a pillow to sit on. he stretches his legs out so his bare feet hang over the end of his balcony, and leans his back agains his apartment wall.

the pot has cooled down a bit but is still too hot to put on his naked legs so he balances it on his hoodie-covered stomach. the ramen are spicy. it’s a different burn than the one on his wrist but it is still grounds him.

the apartment is high enough up for him to watch over some of the surrounding houses and he lets his gaze fade somewhere into the distance, focusing on the horizon. in the last rays of sunshine one could almost consider the city beautiful. but he knows better. there is not one ounce of beauty in this suffocating concrete jungle. it’s too many people and solitude at the same time. it’s overwhelming sound in the buzzing streets and deafening silence in a lonely apartment.

the ramen is nearly gone, just like the sun. its last beams weakly trying to keep the day alive, like it’s not ready to leave yet. like a lover that was dismissed but is still burning with great desire.

but the night wins, slaying its enemy in the battle. bringing the day down to its knees until there is nothing left for it to do than surrender and let the night take its place.

**_watching the moonrise_ **

it only takes a few more minutes for the dark to settle. like a king on its throne, it reigns over the world, after another war won, relishing its victory. the moon turns up shortly after, accompanied by his faithful followers, weak in the presence of light pollution.

he looks up at the sky, only recognizing few of the many stars he knows are there. but the moon is bright and big tonight and he is once again overcome with the overwhelming thought that this is the same moon everyone in the world sees when they look up at the sky at night. for a second, he wonders if everyone feels as lonely as him.

**_asking on and one_ **

**_what’s gone wrong_ **

he knows that there was a point in his life when he didn’t feel this way. the memories are pervasive, penetrating his mind at all times. it’s hard to determine a moment when he felt different than he does now.

he once heard that the brain is unable to remember the intensity of pain in order to protect itself, that the feeling fades once it’s over and that you can’t recall it.

does it work the same with happiness? does the human brain just forget what it feels like to have a purpose that makes every problem seem nonexistent, in order to prevent a deeper depression once that purpose bursts like a balloon, and all that is left are tiny pieces of overly stretched plastic that get tramped in the ground, forgotten or later picked up and thrown away for good?

he thinks that that makes no sense, even though it would be nice if he didn’t remember happy. but even though he might not remember the distinct feeling, the memory of the very personification of that word sits right at the front of his brain and has decided to haunt him for the time being.

bright smiles turned gloomy, swallowed by a void darker than black. a blooming face withered away by the snowy frost of all consuming sadness. soft hands roughened by a heart covered in stone, breaking everything in its path to protect itself.

that’s where everything went wrong. that’s where they went wrong.

**_how you been doing_ **

**_you sleeping alright_ **

the muscles in his legs feel stiff as he pushes himself off the now cold ground. the pot feels like ice to the touch and the chopsticks make a metal clinking noise as they hit its bottom. he takes one last look into the night sky and slips inside the apartment again, the pillow forgotten outside. as the warmth of the room envelops him like a hot bath, he only now notices how the cold has already seeped deep into his bones.

but how bad is a little more coldness when his heart has already fully succumbed to it.

he carelessly adds the pot to the stack in his sink before trotting to the bathroom. after using the toilet he stares at himself in the mirror, for a second surprised at how empty his face actually looks. he knew it was bad but seeing the reflection of his sunken complexion and his dead eyes gazing back at him, makes the food in his stomach stir.

he quickly turns off the light and makes his way to his bedroom in the dark. he opens the window, the chilly air immediately rushing in, before shrugging off the hoodie, picking up the discarded blankets and climbing onto the bed.

he pulls the comforter up to his chin, his face the only exposed skin. he closes his eyes, wills himself to think of nothing and slips into a restless sleep.

**_i’m worried your tears still wake you up at night_ **

when he wakes up, it’s unbelievably dark in his room and for a moment he panics thinking the day had come but the dark had stayed. a quick look at the light-up alarm clock on his messy nightstand tells him that it’s only 2:23 am.

he leans back in the pillows and after a few more seconds his eyes get used to the dark. he blinks them and notices that he has been crying. bringing his hands to his eyes to rub at them, he sighs shakily.

again, his thoughts wander. to a time when it wasn’t him waking up like this, when it was him being awoken by the sound of quiet sobs. his mind rushing into overdrive, quick to give soothing words and comforting hugs. shushing bad and scary thoughts, replacing them with reassurance of love and support.

**_and you know why_ **

**_but you don’t know why_ **

**_at the same time_ **

sometimes; careful questions.

trying to coax out answers that he was sure were there. (or maybe weren’t.)

he remembers his own confusion, trying hard to wrap his brain around a concept that even the person concerning it wasn’t sure about. listening to hushed explanations that ended in more uncertainty and even more tears.

pushing himself up with his elbows. he decides he has had enough. he rummaged through his closet for a clean shirt before rummaging through his kitchen cabinet for his stash.

**_who holds you on your 50 proof high_ **

the green bottles feels lukewarm in his hand as he grabs one for now and opens the fridge to put away the rest for later. once he starts it will be hard to stop and he would rather only drink the first one in absolute agony. not that it matters after the first bottle.

his sofa is not as comfortable as he remembers but he sinks into it anyways, pulling one of the pillows in his lap. he rests the bottle on it and stares at it for a moment. he swore to himself not to do this after what happened but all fight has left his body, so he screws the lid off and puts the bottle to his lips.

the first few sips are disgusting. the liquid feels almost warm gliding down his throat, leaving a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

his brain’s reaction is almost immediate. the flashbacks start rushing in and suddenly his mind is in a far away place. he is still in his living room but he has travelled back in time.

there are green bottles, a lot of them. and brown ones and even a tall bottle; its glass clear as ice but its contents dark red reminding him of blood. and there is noise, so much noise filling his ears. there is loud jarring screaming and suddenly he is screaming back, saying things he doesn’t mean and some things that he really really means.

then suddenly there is broken glass and blood, real blood. thick liquid running over his arm, dropping into the floor with a tap, tap, tap. the pain follows shorty after and then there is a clammy hand on his arm and a tiny begging voice mumbling apologies thick with sparkling tears.

the next day, there is only a piece of paper; a meager note, a few scribbled words in fear that he might wake up too soon. that and the thick white bandage on his arm is all he has left.

**_been worried all night_ **

**_wondering all night_ **

**_who loves you now_ **

he is brought back to reality by a drop of hot water hitting his arm. the back of his hand finds its way to his cheeks, wiping away the testament of the pain those memories bring. his gaze falls onto the tear turning cold on his skin, right next to a pink scar, stretching across his right forearm. he traces it with his fingertips feeling the bumpy skin.

he takes a few more big sips, the alcohol sloshing around in his stomach, effectively slowing his brain. the first bottle is empty in minutes and he lifts himself off the couch to grab another one, returning to his spot right after.

his brain is slower now, but it never stops turning every thought over and over, looking at it from different angles, dissecting it, torturing it, until it’s a dizzy, bloody and bruised lump screaming at him to just let it die.

but he can’t. maybe he is just cruel like that.

**_who wipes the problems_ **

**_like leaves turned autumn_ **

**_when they won’t stop falling_ **

**_from your eyes_ **

**_and from your sighs_ **

he wonders who it is that wakes up to desperate sobs now, who caresses damp cheeks and whispers sweet words. he wonders who listens to soft rambles and unintelligible concerns sent out into the night. who gazes reassuringly into wet eyes that hold the weight of unspeakable sadness and loneliness that no one has the power or knowledge to cure.

or maybe it was just him who couldn’t.

**_who loves you_ **

maybe tomorrow, someone will wake up to rosy cheeks and a bright smile, to soft fingers stroking unruly hair, to warm kisses and burning touches, to a future brighter than theirs had ever been.

but not him.

his grip on the bottle tightens, suddenly he’s glad for the sturdiness of the thick glass. he doesn’t think he is present enough to deal with any accidents tonight.

after another sip the bottle is empty, too, and he pushes himself off the couch again, his vision blacking for a second before he regains control over his body at least partly, stumbling in the kitchen and opening the fridge retrieving another drink.

as he closes the door his gaze falls onto a picture pinned to it with a magnet shaped like cloud. his breath hitches for a second, the bottle nearly slips from his grip.

as he stands in the kitchen staring at the photo clad in nothing but a shirt and his boxers, the cold of the tiles grounding against his bare feet, his right hand still on the refrigerator handle and his left hand holding the bottle, the condense-water running down his fingers, he lets himself be swallowed by this all-consuming sadness, the only trace left of what was back then.

**_now._ **

**Author's Note:**

> it's 2:30 am and i am wide awake. i had this idea ever since listening to 50 Proof for the first time.  
> thank you for reading my angst :)  
> (if you notice any mistakes i would be happy to correct them if you tell me)


End file.
